


Wait For Me (I Will)

by NightValeian



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Crowley and Aziraphale Remember Each Other From Before The Fall (Good Omens), Crowley is Jophiel, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Reunions, Sharing a Bed, The Fall (Good Omens), Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: After his Fall from Heaven, Crowley wants nothing more than to return to Aziraphale's side.Their reunion doesn't go quite the way he'd imagined.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523762
Comments: 19
Kudos: 178





	Wait For Me (I Will)

**Author's Note:**

> So...This was supposed to be a fill for a Whumptober prompt. 
> 
> Needless to say, it got away from me.

"You look troubled, my love."

Jophiel sighed, dragging his gaze from the stars up above and turned his head to look at the angel beside him. He was met with a concerned pair of blue eyes, eyes that still somehow seemed to sparkle even under the darkness of the night sky, and a hand that covered his own, spreading warmth along his skin. 

"I've just been thinking, I suppose."

Aziraphale tilted his head curiously, glancing up towards the stars they had been admiring from afar. 

"About the stars?" 

"No. Something else." He looked away from him when the angel fixed his gaze upon him again, still just as curious as ever. "Don't worry yourself with it, beloved."

"I feel like I should if it worries _you_ so." Another touch, this time in his hair, soft, hesitant fingertips stroking against fire red locks, careful to not become ensnared in his curls. "Why do you hide from me?" 

"I'm _not_ \--" Jophiel inhaled sharply, running his own hand over his face. He knew if he looked to the angel at his side, he would see a hurt expression, one _he_ had put there. "I do not wish to hide things from you."

"Then do not. Share your troubles with me, my love. Perhaps I can help you."

He knew he could confide in Aziraphale, trusted him to say nothing about the words they exchanged and give him nothing but honesty in response, but he still felt wary. 

As if he shouldn't be voicing these thoughts aloud at all.

"I spoke to Lucifer again today." The hand that had been so tenderly stroking his hair suddenly stopped and he heard Aziraphale inhale slowly. "He says...He says the Almighty plans to create humans, but forbid them any knowledge of the world. To keep them locked away in the Garden."

"I see."

"I just want to know why. Why even bother creating such a beautiful thing and just hide it away?"

Aziraphale squeezed his hand reassuringly, lips curling weakly at the corners. 

"It is all to do with the Great Plan, my love. We should not question it." 

"And again, why not? What is so wrong with asking questions, Aziraphale? What is so wrong with wanting to _know_?" He paused, looking at the angel, golden eyes fixated on his face, noting his smile and how sad it seemed. "I have upset you."

"I am not...upset. I am concerned, for you." Aziraphale sighed, releasing Jophiel's hand and withdrawing from him, leaving the Archangel cold once again. "I know you treasure your kinship with Lucifer, but I fear he is leading you along the wrong path." 

"You are starting to sound like Gabriel, you know."

It was meant as a joke, a jest to bring back the smile to his angel's face, but Aziraphale continued to frown, hands now clasped in his lap.

"Well perhaps Gabriel is _right_." He winced, turning his body fully to Jophiel, hands reaching out automatically as if to touch, to take back what he'd said, but hesitating, hovering just inches from his shoulders. "Darling, I am terribly sorry, but I am...uneasy. I do not want you to get into any sort of trouble."

"Why would I get into trouble?" Jophiel kept his tone soft, gentle, as he reached out to take the angel's hands and guiding them to his face, allowing Aziraphale to cradle his cheeks in his warm palms. "I haven't done anything."

"I know, my love, I know." And he _did_ know; Aziraphale knew that Jophiel had done nothing to get himself into trouble, but that didn't ease the fear that he someday _might. "_ It's just...You know how Lucifer's attitudes are regarded amongst everyone. I do not want anyone to think lowly of you as well."

"Aziraphale--"

" _Please_...Be careful." Aziraphale leaned in, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. Jophiel reached up, cradling the back of Aziraphale's head in his palm, keeping him close. "I could not bear it if anything happened to you, my star." 

Any fight that had been boiling inside of Jophiel slowly dispersed; the desire for answers fading, only to be replaced by the overwhelming love he felt for the angel in front of him. 

His star, _Aziraphale's_ star: a name the angel whispered to him after he had created so many of the stars that hovered above them in the night sky, a name that was for Jophiel and Jophiel alone.

"Nothing is going to happen to me." Jophiel murmured, winding his arm around the angel's waist to tug him flush against his front. They stood there, arms encircling one another, Aziraphale's face tucked into his neck, and Jophiel swayed with him soothingly. "I swear to you, my beloved. Everything is just fine." 

* * *

"I can help you find the answers you seek, you know, little brother."

Jophiel raised an eyebrow curiously, glancing towards the source of the voice. Lucifer was seated next to him, a charming smile on his usually cool features, and Jophiel immediately knew to be cautious.

While Jophiel had admired and looked up to Lucifer since the beginning, the other Archangels had long since been wary of him when he began asking questions. Lucifer had been gifted with a bright mind, a desire to learn, and he believed it unfair that his siblings would hinder his search. 

Aziraphale had always taken Gabriel's warnings to heart, convinced that any deviation from normal to be dangerous, but the more time Jophiel spent with Lucifer, the less he wanted to listen to Gabriel. 

"Oh, you can, can you?"

"Of course. I know you have many questions. It is a shame that you don't have the answers."

"Perhaps, but all you have are pretty words. You have the same questions as I do, but you still have no answers." 

Lucifer smiled wider, a smile that seemed more sinister, less trustworthy; one that made Jophiel uneasy.

"This is true, but I _do_ know how to get them. If you're interested, of course."

Jophiel hummed thoughtfully, doing his best to feign disinterest, though the curiosity was certainly there, whispering at the back of his mind in Lucifer’s voice, asking him what the harm could be. It would be nice to have the answers to all of his questions...

_I could not bear it if anything happened to you, my star..._

Aziraphale's voice echoed in the back of his head, dragging him away from the allure of Lucifer's words and giving him a cold dose of reality. 

No, he had given his word to his beloved. Everything was going to be fine and that meant not giving into Lucifer’s temptations.

"The only one who can give us those answers is the Almighty, Lucifer." Jophiel said suddenly, Aziraphale's words leaving his lips quickly as if they would keep him steady. "It has nothing to do with us. It's all a part of-"

"The Great Plan, yes, I know. Do you really believe that or is that Gabriel talking?" Jophiel faltered, staring at the other Archangel with wide eyes. "I mean, we helped create it all, didn't we? Shouldn't we be allowed to know about the things we've created?"

"Well, of course, but--"

"Then come with me. I have a small following who believes the same way you and I do, Jophiel." Lucifer leaned in, eyes sparkling with delight and...perhaps something a bit more sinister for a brief moment before it vanished. "We can get our answers together."

"But...how?"

"We will have to leave Heaven."

Jophiel felt his eyes widen, staring at Lucifer in disbelief. 

“L-Leave Heaven?”

“Come now, brother, you don’t think we can get our answers _here_ , do you? Gabriel would have a fit if he found out, you know how he gets.” 

Gabriel had always been a bit overbearing, holding the Almighty’s word above all else, but Aziraphale had suggested long ago that perhaps it was how Gabriel showed them how much he cared. Deep down, Jophiel knew that as well.

“Gabriel is just trying to protect us…” 

“Protect us from _what?_ Knowing? Having knowledge?” Lucifer sneered, red irises rolling back in annoyance. “Gabriel is _afraid_ of the things we could discover because then he would be the only one who would know nothing! 

“But _leaving_ Heaven? We can’t just leave Heaven, Lucifer!” 

“I have done it before, many of us have. Nothing has happened.”

Jophiel swallowed, mouth dry. He _could_ leave Heaven with Lucifer and gain the answers he sought. No one would have to know. 

“But what if Gabriel-”

“Honestly, Jophiel, I am disappointed. Are you always going to do what _Gabriel_ says?” Lucifer asked, raising a curious eyebrow which made Jophiel’s stomach twist itself into knots. “He doesn’t want the same things you and I want. He wants you to be just like _him._ Is that what _you_ want?” 

Jophiel frowned, considering this. He did _not_ want to be like Gabriel, content in ignorance and blindly devoted; he wanted to be himself. 

“You said we can come back?”

“You can return any time you like. I give my word.” Lucifer grinned that wicked grin, extending a hand towards Jophiel who eyed it uneasily. “Well?”

Jophiel hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out, taking the hand within his own and giving it a slow shake. 

“Show me.”

* * *

Lucifer had been busy. 

He had quietly told Jophiel of a place that he had created a ways below Heaven, away from God's prying eyes and ears, a place where they could all gather and work together to find the answers they sought. 

He called it Sanctuary; Jophiel was eager to see it, eager to learn, eager to share this fountain of knowledge with others who shared the same interest that he did. 

Lucifer told him of where the angels would assemble to descend to this mysterious Sanctuary, just near the gates of Heaven when the skies grew dark and the stars sparkled up above. He told Jophiel that they would wait for him, if he decided to join them. 

Jophiel did want to join them and despite any doubts he’d had earlier, he felt confident that this was a good decision. 

"L-Leave Heaven? Have you _lost_ your mind?"

Aziraphale did not.

" _Hush_ , keep your voice down. It would hardly take long. I would be back before anyone realized I was gone." Aziraphale shook his head, hands wringing in front of himself, frantic with worry and Jophiel was quick to move towards him, covering those hands with his own. "Aziraphale, beloved, I need answers."

Not telling Aziraphale about his intentions had never been a part of his plan; he knew that he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone if Jophiel asked him not to. He trusted the angel with every part of him, every thought, every action, and the idea of seeing Sanctuary could not go unspoken.

"Have you thought for a moment that perhaps the answers you're seeking aren't yours to have?" Aziraphale asked desperately, squeezing his hands. "Have you thought of the consequences at all? What your-your search could _cost_ you?"

"You are all worked up over nothing. Nothing is going to happen. Lucifer says he and his group go to this Sanctuary all of the time." 

Aziraphale let out a laugh, a strangled sound that practically ripped itself from his throat and his hands shook in Jophiel’s hold. Never had Jophiel seen his beloved in such a state and he felt uneasy that he was the cause of it. 

"And that is supposed to reassure me? I’m supposed to say, ‘yes, darling, leave Heaven with Lucifer and go find the answers to your questions?’ Because I’m not going to do that, Jophiel.” 

Jophiel sighed heavily, releasing Aziraphale’s hands in favor of wrapping his arms around him, tugging him close. He spread his large white wings and did the same, tucking them around his angel and cocooning him in the warmth and security that he needed. 

“Calm yourself.” Aziraphale wound his own arms around the Archangel, fisting his hands into the robes at his back while pressing his face into his chest. "There, now, it's alright."

"I wish you wouldn't do this." Aziraphale pleaded. "I know you seek knowledge and answers, but I have _such_ a terrible feeling about this. If Gabriel were to find out-”

“Gabriel is _not_ going to find out.” Jophiel said firmly, pressing his lips to the crown of Aziraphale’s head. “Please, beloved, do _not_ tell Gabriel."

“But what if-” 

" _Please._ He’ll never let me go if he knew."

"Yes and what does _that_ tell you?"

"Darling, don't you trust me?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

"It's not _you_ that I do not trust."

"Aziraphale...Please." 

They stared at each other for a long time, gold eyes into blue, before Aziraphale sighed, closing his in defeat. Even if he knew it was wrong, even if he had a terrible feeling about the whole idea, Aziraphale could never refuse Jophiel. 

“You come back to me. Do you hear me?” 

“Of course, my love. I’ll come right back.” 

“And if you don’t, I’m telling Gabriel.” 

“That’s fair.” Jophiel agreed because that was motivation enough. He did _not_ need Gabriel finding out about this. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

“Just be safe, my star." Aziraphale said softly, his smile weak and not very genuine. Jophiel would have to make this up to him upon his return. "I'll be waiting for you."

Jophiel pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then his nose, followed by his cheeks and Aziraphale melted into his touch, eyes slipping closed as his love washed over him. 

“I will always return to you. Always, my beloved, I promise.” 

* * *

Aziraphale had been right.

Lucifer had been wrong; so, _so_ wrong. 

Why hadn’t he listened to Gabriel? Why, _why,_ hadn’t he just listened to Aziraphale? 

Both had been right to be wary of Lucifer’s intentions and Jophiel had all but disregarded their warnings before willingly throwing himself into danger: all for a few false promises, a few pretty words. 

All of Lucifer’s followers had been barred from Heaven and so had taken up action against Heaven, against God Herself, to make their feelings known. 

Now Heaven was aflame, _burning_ , while Outcast and Angel, brother and brother, fought one another with sword and spear for blood. Above the chaos, Michael and Lucifer clashed, the sound of their swords ringing out through the skies as they met blow for blow. 

Aziraphale had been right, Lucifer had been wrong, and Jophiel had made a mistake. 

And he would give _anything_ to go back and change it.

* * *

“Get _back_! I do not wish to hurt you!”

Jophiel’s legs seemed to move of their own accord, taking them as quickly as they could towards the source of the voice as the battle raged on around him. 

“Aziraphale?!” 

If he hadn’t known Aziraphale so well, he wouldn’t have recognized him; the usually calm, kind-hearted angel was now a brilliant force to be reckoned with. His eyes were alight with angelic fury, burning as bright as the _flaming sword_ he was wielding in his hand which he used to disarm the Outcasts who were swarming him. 

Even in war, Aziraphale was merciful, not harming a single Outcast who intended to harm _him._ He blocked any attack with his sword before using it as leverage to knock back the attacker, putting distance between them and himself. His darling Aziraphale was never meant to be a soldier, never meant for such violence, but here he was, defending Heaven with all he had.

Jophiel stepped forward, intending to intervene, to _help_ his beloved before any harm came to him, but before he could get any closer, an ear splitting scream rang out from above and the fighting ceased so everyone could turn towards the source. 

Lucifer’s wings were _burning_ and he was screaming as he plummeted from the sky, hands reaching for Michael, for some kind of _help_ , as the Archangel watched on in horror. Everyone watched, stunned, as Lucifer fell through the clouds below, his screams silenced.

He never resurfaced. 

Before anyone could react, before a single word could be said, those who had followed Lucifer into this war suffered the same fate, their wings bursting into flames and falling through the clouds with screams of anguish. 

Aziraphale looked around in a panic, eyes flickering from body to body as they disappeared, sword discarded and hands reaching out as if to help those who were suffering but unsure how. Jophiel took another step closer, his own hands reaching out towards his angel, because he _knew_ he didn’t have much time left. 

“Azira-!”

The name broke off halfway out of his mouth as pain like fire split up his spine, searing around the area where his wings met his back. He staggered forward a step, trying to _reach_ him, trying to get to him and _apologize_ before he too met the same fate as Lucifer and his followers. 

But he never reached him and Aziraphale didn’t turn around until just after Jophiel fell through the clouds, the echo of an Archangel’s name on his lips. 

* * *

_Infiltrate the Garden of Eden?_

_Yes, this is your task as assigned to you by our Dark Lord, Crawly._

_Isn’t that risky? I mean, there’s angels up in the Garden._

_You’ll be fine. Keep your head low._

_And what will I do once I...infiltrate?_

_Do what you do best. Stir up some trouble._

* * *

The angel in the Garden had blonde hair.

It was the first thing the demon Crawly, formerly Jophiel, noticed when he slithered up from the pits of Hell to cause trouble for God’s favored creations and the angels protecting them. 

The angel was blonde like his Aziraphale.

After the Fall from Heaven, after Lucifer and his followers were cast out from their home and barred from returning, they rebuilt Sanctuary. It turned from a place of seeking knowledge and answers to a warzone, cramped and crowded with hundreds of Fallen who stumbled about, lost and longing for a new purpose. 

Lucifer had taken advantage of the chaos, coaxing the Fallen into hating the Almighty, turning against Her completely for _She_ had abandoned _them_ for no reason. They were rallied together, given new names, new jobs, and a new goal: Thwart the Great Plan in any way, shape, or form. 

Lucifer became Satan, Jophiel became Crawly, Sanctuary became Hell, and Creation continued on task as if the Fall had never occured. 

Hell was draining, mind-numbing; the longer he spent amongst the stink and decay, the more he forgot what Heaven looked like. The longer he mulled about the crowds, desperate to do _more_ , desperate to _create_ , the more he forgot what his beloved Aziraphale even looked like. 

Crawly remembered Aziraphale had hair the color of the sun and eyes as blue as the skies, but any other features had long since faded to time. He remembered that Aziraphale had a kind heart, that he had been gentle and intelligent, and undeniably brave. He remembered that he had loved, _still_ loved, Aziraphale with his entire being. 

He wondered if Aziraphale still loved him. 

Did he think about him? 

Would he even _recognize_ him now? Crawly hardly looked like his angelic self anymore with wings as black as night and eyes now as yellow as the serpent’s that he took the form of.

Crawly thought of Aziraphale every day, especially as he slithered through the Garden and spied on the angel with the blonde hair. 

The angel was quiet, melancholy even, as he walked through the Garden, greeting the plants and animals with a kind smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He kept his distance from the humans, Adam and Eve, keeping an eye on them from afar so that they may live their lives in peace. 

The angel with blonde curls carried a sword of flames, lit but never raised, hanging loosely in his hold as if the weight of it burdened him in some way. This angel was not a warrior, yet he was stationed to guard the Garden. 

Crawly wondered why the Almighty would do such a thing.

He never approached the angel, only observing from afar until long after his temptation had been completed and the humans had fled the Garden, forced into a cruel world on their own with no guidance, no help. 

Crawly wondered if the humans felt the loss of God’s love as the Fallen had when they’d been cast out from Heaven’s light. He wondered how long they would survive, if this was the end of humanity already. 

He made his way up the Garden wall to where the angel with blonde hair stood, hands twisting in front of himself anxiously as he observed the two humans in the distance. The angel didn’t seem to pay him much mind, far too distracted with his former charges, but that didn’t stop Crawly from trying to get his attention, desperate for some kind of contact. 

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” 

The angel looked at him, their eyes met, and Crawly’s chest grew tight. 

If he needed to breathe, it would be incredibly difficult to do so in that moment. 

The angel had blue eyes; he had blonde hair and blue eyes like his Aziraphale. 

“I’m sorry?” 

What were the odds that the one angel he’d meet in the Garden would remind him so strongly of his beloved? Blonde hair and blue eyes had been fairly common in Heaven, but that had been true for every hair or eye color. 

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.” 

The angel didn’t raise a hand to him, made no movement to smite him off the face of Creation, which was oddly surprising. Instead, he merely chose to talk to him, seeming to also find comfort in the presence of another individual regardless of their alignment. 

The longer the two of them spoke, the easier it became. Talking to this angel was familiar, like talking to an old friend, someone he’d known for a very long time, and there were other things as well. 

His smile, his laugh, his voice; he remembered a similar smile just as wide blessing him with its light, he remembered hearing a laugh so soft when Crawly’s lips would brush a cheek, and he remembered that voice, hushed, but so full of _love_ as he whispered a name long lost to time. 

“Aziraphale?” 

The angel’s words came to an abrupt halt, catching in his throat as he turned toward Crawly, blue eyes wide with alarm. He hadn’t offered a name, yet a demon he had never met knew it and had called him by it so easily.

Crawly swallowed, turning his body towards this angel and watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Aziraphale stepped _away_ from him, expression the perfect picture of unease. 

"Do I...know you?"

Oh, Crawly could have wept. Aziraphale didn’t recognize him, which was fair, he didn’t look exactly like he had the last time they’d seen one another, but this was _him._

Aziraphale was _here;_ his beautiful, kindhearted beloved was here right in front of him after all of this time. 

"Aziraphale, it's _me._ " The desperation clawed at him, swallowing around the lump in his throat causing the word to come out cracked. Aziraphale took another step back, unsure, but there was something there in his eyes. A spark of familiarity that the demon was quick to take advantage of. "It's alright. I would never harm you, my beloved."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, the realization settling in his expression. 

"Jophiel...?"

The name left his lips, barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving, and Crawly's heart lurched in his chest, dragging him forward a step at the sound of his angelic name, a name he hadn’t heard in so long. 

"I-It's Crawly now, actually, but I'm still me." He reached out a hand to take Aziraphale's hand, eager to touch him, to finally _finally_ reconnect after being apart for so long. "Heaven, I've _missed_ you--"

His words died off when Aziraphale pulled his hand out of his reach, eyes wide and wet, staring at Crawly as if he were a ghost sent back to haunt him.

"You _abandoned_ me."

Crawly froze, hand outstretched towards nothing now that the angel had withdrawn from him. Abandoned him? Is that what Aziraphale thought he had done? That he had willingly abandoned him?

"No...No, I would _never_ \--"

"They told me you were lost to us. You were never coming home.” 

“Darling, I _tried--”_

“ **Stop it** .” Crawly’s mouth snapped closed as Aziraphale covered his own, hand trembling, muffling a pained whine as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Just...Just _stop_ it. This isn’t real. Th-This is some kind of trick. You were _gone_ …” 

The demon watched as Aziraphale fought a type of internal battle with himself, shoulders trembling, tears spilling down his face, ones that he was desperate to reach out and wipe away. This wasn’t his Aziraphale; this trembling, sobbing mess couldn’t be his Aziraphale. 

What had happened to him? What had they done to Aziraphale?

“It’s me, beloved. It’s really me.” Crawly took another step forward, hands out in a placating gesture, trying to show he meant no harm as he approached. “ _Look_ at me, darling. I’m right here.” 

Aziraphale opened his eyes, using the back of his hand to scrub the tears from his eyes, but didn’t make a motion to move away, eyeing Crawly angrily. He seemed to take him in; inspecting his face, his eyes, all of him, before stepping towards him, fists now clenched and face glowering.

"Why couldn't you have just _listened_ to me? I warned you, _Gabriel_ warned you, but you just _had_ to have answers without considering the consequences!” 

“Now wait just a minute--”

“I thought you were _dead_ .” The words hung between them for a moment, the weight of Aziraphale’s reality heavy on Crawly’s shoulders. “No one knew what had happened to Lucifer and his followers after the Fall! They just... _fell_ through the clouds, wings ablaze, and their screams _,_ Jophiel, their _screams..._ We thought She...W-We _all_ thought…”

Aziraphale let out a sob, shoulders heaving as he relived the moment Gabriel had told him they believed that those who had gone against God had perished when they’d Fallen. How he thought he would never see his beloved again, how he had resigned himself to the new role that Heaven assigned him like the soldier they expected him to be.

“And here you are. Alive. Acting like nothing happened, like nothing has changed. No word, no indicator that you were fine.” The angel shook his head, dragging a miserable hand across his cheeks and smearing the tears across his skin. “How dare you. I _mourned_ you!"

"Aziraphale, darling, I’m–"

"Don’t! Do **not** call me that! You’ve given up your right to call me that!” Aziraphale snapped, expression the definition of agony. “You can’t just come back like everything is the same, Jophiel!” 

“Crawly.” The demon corrected gently, hands stuck to his sides, resisting the urge to reach out and try too soothe the angel of his anger. “Listen, I know I look a little different, but believe me, that’s all that’s–”

“They told us that demons, the Fallen, were the enemy. Can you imagine that? _You_ , my enemy.” Aziraphale was staring at him, eyes open but not really seeing him, far off in a memory. “My love, my _heart_ , is my enemy.”

“I am _not_ your enemy.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

Crawly swallowed, turning his head to look out at the humans who were still wandering about on the horizon. “I was told to come up here and cause some trouble.” He admitted, eyebrows knitting together. “And that’s what I did.”

Aziraphale smiled wistfully. 

“Ah, yes, I see. Well done.” 

“Look. I can’t change what I’ve done. I’ve made many mistakes.” Crawly looked back towards Aziraphale, sighing heavily before offering him a hopeful smile. “But you and I--”

“There _is_ no you and I anymore, Jo--erm-- _Crawly.”_

Crawly jerked back as if the angel had struck him, the words leaving him breathless and _aching_. 

“Y-You don’t mean that. Aziraphale--” 

“I rather think I do.” Aziraphale turned away from him, wrapping his arms around himself and watching the humans as dark clouds began to build up in the sky. The angel wouldn’t look at him, but from what Crawly could see, his expression was just as pained as the demon’s. “There cannot be an _us_ anymore. We’re on opposite sides.”

“ _Don’t._ Don’t say that.” Crawly pleaded. “You’re upset with me, I understand, but don’t do this.” 

“This isn’t about me being upset with you. This is me being practical.” Aziraphale said firmly, though his voice trembled and his shoulders shook. “You made your choice and I’ve made mine.”

The skies rumbled above them ominously. 

“What has Heaven done to you, Aziraphale?” 

“Heaven has changed so much since you left.” Aziraphale said sadly and Crawly’s corporation’s heart twisted in his chest. He didn't know what that meant; he didn't know what it meant and it _scared_ him. “And so have I.” 

Despite all of this, despite Aziraphale’s cold words and dismissal, as droplets of water began to fall from the dark clouds overhead, the angel lifted a wing and held it suspended over the demon, shielding him from the rain even though his eyes were still fixated on the humans.

The two of them waited out the world’s first storm together on the wall in absolute silence, neither having any words to say, and Crawly knew he wouldn’t be able to live on Earth if Aziraphale were mad at him. 

He had to fix this, somehow; he just had to keep trying. 

* * *

_I’ve changed it._

_Changed what?_

_My name. Crawly wasn’t doing it for me._

_Ah. So what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?_

_Crowley._

* * *

_I’ve never had an oyster._

_Oh! Well, let me tempt--Oh. Actually, that’s your job, isn’t it?_

_...Well, I'll try anything once, I suppose._

* * *

"I _told_ you the crepes were absolutely divine."

"Right again, angel."

It was going rather well in Crowley's opinion. Aziraphale was at his happiest when he was indulging in his human interests, whether it be books or some kind of cuisine, and Crowley was always happy to observe him in this relaxed state. The angel would talk for hours, smiling widely, telling Crowley all he'd been up to since their last meeting and Crowley would merely sit quietly, smiling fondly all the while. 

It was the closest he could get to what life had been like before he had Fallen. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat in that little cafe in Paris, chatting and soaking up one another's company, but in the time they sat there, Crowley had seen Aziraphale rub at his wrists at least eight times. 

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale paused in mid-sentence, eyes wide in surprise before glancing down at his wrists. "Oh, yes, of course. Just phantom pain, I suppose."

The manacles; Aziraphale had been chained up in the bastille. How could he have forgotten?

"Here, let me see."

"Oh, Crowley, really--"

The demon paid him no mind, however, as he reached across the table and very carefully wrapped his fingers around the angel's hand, easing it closer to examine it. 

Aziraphale's skin was soft under his hands, warm. He ran his fingers along the unblemished skin of his wrist, probing for injury, but also relishing in the opportunity to be so close to the angel, to just touch him again. 

Crowley lifted his gaze to Aziraphale's, surprised to see that the angel was staring at him, blue eyes wide in wonder. He wondered if he felt the same way, if their skin touching sent sparks up his nerves too, if his heart was beating frantically in his chest as well. 

But before he could ask, before he could cross that line, Aziraphale pulled his hand from Crowley's hold and instead of wonder, Crowley saw fear. 

"Angel?"

Aziraphale pushed back from the table and got to his feet, hands twisting anxiously in front of himself.

“This was a mistake. I have to go.” 

“No, angel, _wait!”_ Crowley scrambled up from his seat, quick to follow the angel out of the cafe and out onto the Paris streets. “Oi! You can’t just walk away after _that_!” 

Aziraphale glanced at him over his shoulder, expression unreadable. “I can and I am. Good day, Crowley.” 

The angel turned down an alleyway, most likely with the intent of miracling himself home from there, but Crowley found himself nearly running to catch him in time. 

"You're really going to act like you didn't feel anything just now! You're really going to just walk away and act like you don't _want_ things to be like they used to be!"

Aziraphale stopped walking, turning to face the demon and throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation. 

"This isn't about what I _want_!"

"Then what is it about?"

"Crowley, we _can't."_

"And why not? Why can't we?"

Aziraphale laughed something harsh, something ugly, tears collecting on his lashes that Crowley wished he could wipe away. 

"I'm an _angel_ . You're a _demon_. It isn't like how it used to be." 

Crowley hissed, taking step after step to the angel until he had him crowded up against the wall of the alley, hands braced on either side of his head to keep him there 

"It's _exactly_ how it used to be _._ My _love_ for you is exactly the same as it used to be!"

"Crowley, don't--"

"Have you forgotten how _happy_ we were? How in love? Does that mean so little to you now?" 

Something flashed in Aziraphale's eyes at his accusation, something angry, dangerous.

"Don't you _dare._ Don't you _dare_ assume that even for a moment I've forgotten my love for you, _Jophiel_ ." Crowley faltered, eyes widening a fraction at the sound of his old name and Aziraphale trembled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. " _You_ left _me_ , remember?" 

"I was coming _back!"_

"But you _didn't!_ You left me up there, alone, and I _waited_ , Crowley! I _waited_ for you to come _home_ and you never came back and it was _my_ fault!"

Crowley staggered back a step, the words sharper than a knife. 

"What are you talking about? What happened to me was _not_ your--"

Aziraphale laughed again, this time a bit less heartbroken and a bit more hysterical. He looked less like an angel now, less like the mask he'd been wearing for centuries and more like _his_ Aziraphale. 

Satan, he looked so _tired_. When had his angel ever looked so tired? 

"I-If I had just...tried _harder_ , if I had just begged you to stay, then you wouldn't have run off to Lucifer." Aziraphale said quietly, eyes downcast. "I just...let you go and you didn't come back. I _failed_ you."

Crowley slowly shook his head, ducking his head to try and see Aziraphale's expression because the angel wouldn't _look_ at him. 

"Whose words are those? Who said that to you?"

"Everyone has. One time or another."

_What has Heaven done to you, Aziraphale?_

_Heaven has changed so much since you left..._

Crowley stared at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to apologize, to say _something._ He couldn't wrap his head around how Heaven could blame _Aziraphale_ for what had happened to him.

"That's a blessed _lie._ Everything that happened to me was _my_ fault, angel--"

"I would have given _anything_ to bring you home. It tore me apart to lose you, to think I would never see you again."

Aziraphale's lip trembled, lifting his gaze up to glare at Crowley, anger restored.

"A-And now? You ask me if our love meant so little? As if I'd forgotten you and your _touch_ and your _warmth_ ?" Aziraphale demanded, jabbing a finger into Crowley's chest. "How _dare_ you. I am simply _trying_ to protect you!"

"P-Protect me?" Crowley sputtered. "From what exactly?"

" _Them!_ My side, your side! Honestly, Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed. "Do you have _any_ idea what they would _do_ to you if we were caught together? Do you have any idea what my side _does_ to demons?”

Crowley shook his head in dismissal as the realization settled in. Aziraphale had been pushing him away all of these years to protect him and Crowley had let himself believe that Aziraphale had simply come to hate him.

This changed everything. 

"I don't care about that."

Aziraphale deflated, the fight seeming to leave him all at once as he sagged back against the wall, allowing it to support his weight. 

" _I_ care, you...you _idiot_."

"Angel…Oh, my _beloved_ angel…" 

" _Stop_ ...Please…" Aziraphale sniffled, blinking and finally releasing the tears that had been building in his eyes for so long. Crowley couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup his face, brushing the water from his cheeks and Aziraphale's eyes fluttered closed, sinking into the familiar touch despite how he knew he should pull away. "I-I _can't…_ "

"My beloved Aziraphale…" Aziraphale choked out a sob, hands reaching up to grasp Crowley's wrists, desperate to have something to hold onto even as the demon leaned in to brush his lips against his cheek. "I am so sorry that I left you. I wish that I hadn't. I wish that I had done so many things differently and spared you all of this pain."

Crowley's lips brushed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, thumbs gently wiping away the angel's tears and Aziraphale allowed it, his sobs quieting as the moments ticked on. He stood there, weak to the familiar touches and the gentle press of lips against his skin, causing a feeling to twist in his chest that he hadn't felt since he lost his Jophiel so long ago.

A feeling that caused a longing sigh to spill from his lips in the shape of a name he'd come to love just as much as the demon behind it.

" _Crowley…_ " 

"I love you." Crowley's voice was soft, hardly above a whisper, so only he and Aziraphale could hear his words. The angel's breath caught in the back of his throat. "I've never stopped loving you and every moment we were apart, I was thinking only of how to get back to you."

Another kiss, this time at the corner of his mouth and Aziraphale whimpered, nails digging into Crowley's wrists to the point he was sure it was painful, but he couldn't bring himself to let go, even as those lips moved to brush against his own. 

"Don't…" Crowley paused at his request, their lips a breath apart, and Aziraphale opened his eyes to meet serpentine yellow, remembering the last time they'd been so close and how those eyes had been molten gold. "If you do this, then I will never be able to part from you again." 

"And what would be so wrong with that?" Crowley stared into his eyes, thumbs still stroking his damp cheeks. "We would be _together_ again. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"I'm not worried about _me_ ." Aziraphale's voice rose an octave and his hands _pulled_ until Crowley's hands left his face. "I've lost you once. Don't ask me to do it again. I-I couldn't..."

"Angel--"

"Stop! I-I can't _do_ this!" Aziraphale said, dropping his wrists completely to free his hands and using them to push Crowley away from him. "I love you, but I cannot do this."

The words hung between them in the silence that followed; Aziraphale, wide eyed, horrified at what he had said and Crowley, wide eyed and stunned. 

"You--"

"I have to go."

And just like that, the moment was over. Aziraphale removed himself from the space between Crowley and the wall, walking with quick steps towards the entrance of the alley. A snap of his fingers had vanished away any remnants of tears and puffy eyes, but the pain was still there as it had been for thousands of years, a dull ache behind his ribs. 

"Aziraphale, wait--"

"The Arrangement still stands." Aziraphale said dismissively, not turning around. "Thank you for your assistance today, but I really must be going."

And with another snap, Aziraphale was gone.

* * *

_Can you imagine? If they caught us...us...fraternizing?_

**_Fraternizing?_ **

* * *

_I’ll give you a ride. Anywhere you want to go._

_You go too fast for me, Crowley…_

* * *

Time went on.

They never spoke of that afternoon in Paris and time went on. 

The Apocalypse was just hours away despite their best efforts to avoid it. 

Crowley was fucked and Aziraphale was being damn near _impossible._

_“We could go off together!”_

_“Go off...together?"_

Twice in one day, Crowley had practically begged the angel to abandon Earth and flee to the stars with him. They were running out of time to keep trying to fix what was inevitable and Crowley had accepted it days earlier, but Aziraphale was convinced that there was a way to stop the end of the world and the war that would follow. 

_“How can someone as clever as you be_ **_so_ ** _stupid?”_

_“I forgive you.”_

_Twice in one day_ , Crowley had left Aziraphale behind only to turn right around and go back for him, because he would _not_ abandon him to do this on his own no matter how much his flight instinct screamed at him to do just that. He’d been cruel to him, said hurtful things, lashed out at him due to fear even though he _knew_ that Aziraphale believed he was doing the right thing. 

And after it all, Aziraphale forgave him anyway. 

_“When I’m off in the stars, I won’t even_ **_think_ ** _about you!”_

Aziraphale deserved better than what Crowley had given him, better than what Jophiel had left him with. All of these years, Aziraphale had been keeping Crowley at arm’s length to keep him safe because losing him the first time had been a pain he hadn’t ever recovered from, because he _loved_ him, and how had Crowley repaid him? 

He abandoned him. _Again._

This time, he was going to stay with him. 

They were going to face whatever the end of the world brought together and whatever came afterwards? They would face that together too. 

At least, that’s what he’d hoped they would do if the angel would still have him. 

But as Crowley pulled up to a burning bookshop in Soho, he realized, with a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he knew exactly how Aziraphale had felt when he’d received the news that the Archangel Jophiel was lost forever. 

Alone. 

* * *

_Did you go to Alpha Centauri?_

_Nah. Changed my mind. Lost the love of my life._

_Oh, Crowley…_

* * *

_Listen, where are you? Wherever you are I’ll come to you._

_I’m not really anywhere, I’m afraid. I’ve been discorporated._

_Oh._

_Make your way to Tadfield Airbase. That’s where it’s going to happen: the end of the world._

_Aziraphale—_

_I’ll meet you there. As soon as I can, I promise._

* * *

Completely aflame, the Bentley rolled up to the entrance of the airbase with the last of its energy, determined to get Crowley where he needed to be. There were three figures in front of the entrance; a soldier, Shadwell, and a woman that Crowley had never seen before. 

There was no Aziraphale waiting for him, perhaps he hadn’t made it yet, but Crowley couldn’t afford to wait; they didn’t have time. 

He climbed out of the car and sauntered towards the group, not quite sure what to expect, but refusing to be caught unaware anymore that day. The closer he got to the group at the gate, however, Crowley started to sense something different about the woman and it wasn’t just her bright hair or oddly patterned coat. 

“Won’t see a performance like that from a modern car.” 

“ _Crowley.”_

It wasn’t Aziraphale’s body, but it was Aziraphale’s voice. A voice that sounded so happy to see him, so relieved, while someone else’s eyes sparkled with delight. It took every bit of restraint to force himself not to run across that short distance and take the angel into his arms, to not hold him so tightly and apologize for everything he’d said and done over the past few days, the past few _centuries._

“ _Hey_ , Aziraphale. See you found a ride. Nice dress, suits you.” 

_You’re here. I thought you were dead and now you’re here._ Crowley swallowed down the burn in his throat and blinked away the burn behind his eyes. He had to be cool, had to remain collected; Aziraphale needed him to be brave, to make everything alright. _Is this how you felt, my beloved? When we met again on the wall?_

The woman’s face lit up, a smile so familiar to his angel’s spreading across painted lips, and gloved hands reached out towards him as he grew closer, as if to touch him, to draw him in close and never let go. 

But as they reached, the smile faltered, the fingers curled back against the palms, and Crowley knew that neither angel nor demon would be getting the reunion that they’d been hoping for. 

“This young man won’t let us in.” Aziraphale said to him softly, gazing up at him with all of the other things he would rather be saying in that moment, things that would have to remain unsaid until this whole mess was behind them. 

“Leave it to me.” 

* * *

It was when Satan himself pulled himself up from under the ground that Crowley started to feel nervous. 

It wasn't some Archangel, some Duke or Lord of Hell, it was the _ruler_ of Hell; a mere shadow of what was once his brother. 

Aziraphale stood at his side, flaming sword in hand as they watched the young antichrist approach his unholy father, both silently hoping Adam knew what he was doing and hoping he would do it right. 

"Is this my son? My disobedient son? Come _here!"_

Crowley felt something brush his hand and he startled, dragging his gaze from Adam to look down, seeing a very familiar hand so close to his hand and wondering when Aziraphale had gotten so close to _him_. 

The angel's face spared no emotion, his eyes stared straight forward and his chin held high, every bit of the warrior Crowley had seen when the angels Fell, but Aziraphale was no warrior and his empty hand, the one reaching for Crowley's, trembled at his side. He was staring right at Satan himself, the individual who had lured Jophiel from his side so long ago, and the demon noticed how his lip trembled with emotion.

Crowley didn't hesitate, grabbing Aziraphale's hand in his own and giving a firm, reassuring squeeze to convey everything he wanted to say. 

It took a moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, before Aziraphale squeezed his hand back.

Adam could do this and if he couldn't, then _they_ would. 

Together.

* * *

On a bench in Tadfield, an angel and a demon were sharing a bottle of wine to celebrate how the world didn't come to an end. 

They'd narrowly stopped the Apocalypse, narrowly escaped with their lives, and now had the weight of Agnes Nutter's final prophecy looming over them.

Crowley was gazing up at the night sky while they waited for the bus to take them back to London, squinting behind his sunglasses to pick out the few stars that were visible. 

Aziraphale sat silent at his side, gazing up at the same stars with a look of wonder and it felt so familiar, an echo of a memory from long before Creation. He tilted his head, glancing over at the demon beside him and felt his chest swell with a Love that he'd never stopped feeling.

This may be their last night together; this could be the very last night of the rest of their lives. He'd spent six thousand years being afraid after Crowley's Fall. Afraid of being alone, afraid of _losing_ but Crowley had never abandoned him again, even now at the end of the world.

They didn't have much time left, but he had just enough to make it right.

"You look troubled, my love." 

Crowley startled at the sound of his voice, turning his head to look at him, eyebrows raised high. The words looked like they had struck a chord, the memory bubbling up to the surface as the demon's face slowly softened, a fond smile curling on his lips. 

"I've just been thinking, I suppose."

Aziraphale smiled shakily, blinking away the dampness that had started to collect on his lashes as he offered a hand, palm up in a silent offering and a silent apology for all of the wasted time, for all of the hurt feelings and the lies. 

"About the stars?"

Crowley slipped his hand into the angel's, lacing their fingers together. They both sighed in unison, feeling complete again for the first time in so long.

"No." Crowley murmured, bringing the angel's hand up to his lips, brushing them against his knuckles. "About you."

* * *

The two of them held hands throughout the bus ride back to London and even throughout the short walk up the stairs to Crowley’s flat, comforted by the familiar touch offered by one another. Upon entering the flat, however, Crowley released Aziraphale’s hand in favor of wandering around, turning on lights, and getting settled in. The angel stood near the door, folding his hands in front of himself while studying the interior of Crowley’s flat. 

“Well, this is my flat. Not much to see, but make yourself at home.” Crowley instructed, gesturing about. “Kitchen’s through here, living room through here. I know you don’t sleep often, but it’s been a bit of a day, you may want to try.” 

“Oh, dearest, that won’t be—”

“The bedroom is down the hallway, first door on your right. Bed should be comfortable enough for you.” Crowley continued on as if Aziraphale hadn’t spoken, intent on making the angel as comfortable as possible. He didn’t want to go too fast, holding hands on the bus ride had been a blessing, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

“Crowley—”

“Shout if you need anything. I’ll just be—”

“ _Crowley.”_

Crowley paused in the doorway, turning around to look back at the angel who still hadn’t moved from where he’d left him. Upon closer inspection, the demon could see Aziraphale’s hands were shaking as they twisted together, a nervous tell. 

“Angel? What’s wrong?” 

Aziraphale laughed, something tense and high-pitched, and Crowley took a cautious step forward, knowing that his angel was walking a fine line with his sanity at the moment. 

“What _isn’t_ wrong, Crowley? _Everything_ is wrong.” Aziraphale said, closing his eyes, expression pinched as if he were in pain. “Oh, _darling_ , how can you ever forgive me?” 

“What are you on about? Forgive you for what?” Crowley took another step forward, hands reaching out but hesitant to touch. His thoughts reached back to Paris, the last time he had really touched Aziraphale, and what the result was; Aziraphale pushing him away and Crowley being left alone. He’d thought everything would be alright now after all that they had gone through in the last twelve hours, but Aziraphale still seemed weary.

“ _Everything._ F-For letting you Fall, for pushing you away at every opportunity, for lying to you a-and _hurting_ you for six-thousand years.” Aziraphale raised his trembling hands to cover his face and moaned with grief. “I thought I was protecting you, that it would all be worth it in the end, that I could _save_ you from the wrath of Heaven and Hell if I just pushed you _away_.” 

“You _were_ protecting me, angel.” Crowley lowered his voice, his tone taking on the gentle inflection it typically took on when he spoke to Aziraphale, and he took another step closer. “I don’t need to forgive you because you did nothing wrong.” 

“I lost you. I-I lost you and as a result, _I_ was lost.” Aziraphale choked out, palms pressing firmly against his face, catching tears as they spilled over, trying to keep them hidden from the demon’s sight. “And I was _so_ afraid of losing you again, so afraid of _hurting_ again.”

“I know, darling, it’s alright.” Crowley closed the distance between them, lifting his hands to curl his fingers around Aziraphale’s wrists and gently tug his hands from his face even when he met resistance. “Look at me, angel. I’m right here.” 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, meeting his eyes with his own damp ones, before a sob forced its way out of his throat. They were so close, hadn’t been this close in so long, hadn’t _touched_ in so long, and now this was their chance to have it all again.

To take back what they’d lost. 

“I-I’ve wasted so much of our time. This was our second chance and I _ruined_ it.” Crowley shook his head slowly, hands moving from his wrists to cup the angel’s face in his palms, as if he were the most precious thing in the world and hushed him, but Aziraphale pressed on. “And this? This may be our last night on Earth and if all goes wrong, you and I will never—” 

Neither of them planned for it to happen, really, but midway through Aziraphale’s sentence, Crowley leaned in and pressed his lips against the angel’s, cutting off his words and sending the flat into silence. There was barely a moment of hesitation before Aziraphale returned it, sinking into the kiss with a content sigh. The kiss was soft; a gentle press of lips, lips that tasted of salt, but also of something familiar, something that neither of them had felt in over six-thousand years. 

Home. 

The kiss was over as soon as it began, Crowley drawing back only enough to look clearly into Aziraphale’s eyes once they fluttered open once again. 

“Now, you listen to me. If you think for a _single_ moment that I blame you for anything that’s happened to me in the last however many years since I Fell from Heaven, you are _beyond_ wrong.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley shook his head, thumb brushing delicately against his lips to silence him. “And if you think I plan on spending what may be our last night on Earth listening to you apologize, you’re wrong about that too.” 

Aziraphale said nothing, merely staring up at Crowley with wide eyes as he took in his words, allowing him to continue talking. 

“I love you. I have _always_ loved you and I will never _stop_ loving you, no matter what you’ve said or done, no matter what _they_ made you feel like you had to do to survive.” Crowley said firmly, moving his thumbs to the space just under the angel’s eyes and swiping at the dampness that was starting to collect on his bottom lashes. “Don’t cry, my beloved. You’ve shed enough tears to fill an entire ocean."

Aziraphale laughed, a soft and wet, but genuine laugh. It was the laugh that Crowley had heard in Heaven so many times, the laugh that caused Aziraphale’s lips to curl and his nose to scrunch up, a laugh that could light the darkest room. 

Oh, how Crowley had missed hearing it.

“Isn’t that the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard?” Crowley murmured, heart aching as he leaned back in, brushing their lips back together for another brief kiss which the angel accepted with ease. “You deserve so much more than I’ve been able to give you; so much more happiness. I hope you’ll allow me to make up for lost time.” 

Aziraphale lifted his arms slowly, sliding his hands across Crowley’s shoulders until they came to meet again in flaming red hair, fingers curling gently into those locks and easing his head forward until their foreheads knocked together. It dislodged Crowley’s hands from holding his face, but the demon was quick to wind them around Aziraphale’s waist instead. 

“Every moment spent with you has brought me happiness.” The angel replied softly. “Even if I never showed you how happy it truly made me, my love, being at your side all of this time? It was like you'd never left me to begin with.” 

“Angel…” 

“I love you.” The words were so soft, hesitant, Crowley nearly had to strain to hear them. It had been so long since he’d heard them from Aziraphale’s lips because Aziraphale had been so afraid to say them out loud, but the demon watched in silent awe as the angel’s expression shifted to something more confident. “Crowley, I love you.” 

Crowley laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “I know, angel.” 

“I love you.” Aziraphale repeated, louder this time, before he pressed his lips to Crowley’s once, then again, and again punctuating each kiss with the phrase. “I love you. I love you _so_ much.” 

It was like a floodgate had been opened, once Aziraphale started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He whispered the words against Crowley’s lips over and over again, desperate for the demon to _know_ how much love the angel held for him, how desperately sorry he was for not allowing himself to say it during all of the years they’d spent on Earth. 

He wanted him to know how loved he was before Heaven and Hell came for them. 

Crowley wasn’t sure when Aziraphale began to cry again, but he could once again taste the salt of tears and the hands in his hair held on tighter, as if afraid to let go. The demon tilted his head, narrowly avoiding another kiss, and Aziraphale’s head merely fell forward in defeat, tucked in the curve of where Crowley’s neck and shoulder met. 

“Alright, alright...That’s enough of that.” Crowley murmured, rubbing his hands up and down Aziraphale’s back soothingly. “We have plenty of time to shower one another with affection, but not right now. Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day and we could use the rest.” 

“We can’t sleep. The _prophecy—”_

_“_ Can spare an hour or two. We’ll get some rest and figure it out together, alright?”

It took some persuasion, but Crowley managed to coax Aziraphale down the hall to the bedroom and into his bed. For an angel who never slept, he took to the bed rather easily, sinking into the soft mattress with a heavy sigh, eyes closing almost instantly.

The demon watched the angel from the side of the bed, unable to grasp how Aziraphale was actually there with him after six thousand years of being apart. The whole day felt like a dream: losing Aziraphale, getting him back, stopping the Apocalypse, and now?

Now he couldn't take his eyes off the angel in his bed, the golden mop of curls on his head almost appearing to glow in the dim moonlight coming in from the window. 

It was something he had only dreamed about, but somehow it had become a reality. 

"Darling…? Aren’t you coming to bed?" Blue eyes blinked up at him from the pillows, bright even in the darkness. Aziraphale smiled up at him drowsily, patting the empty side of the bed with his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Crowley climbed into bed and lay beside the angel, eyes fixated on his face and drinking in every detail that he could. "Nothing's wrong "

Aziraphale squinted at him in the darkness suspiciously. 

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Not looking at you like anything." Crowley murmured, lifting a hand and laying it against Aziraphale's cheek, unable to keep himself from smiling as the angel's eyes closed. "Did you know you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?"

Aziraphale snorted, eyes still closed but his cheek grew warm under Crowley's palm.

"Honestly, Crowley."

"It's true. Always been true."

"Charmer."

Crowley removed his hand from his face to instead drape it across Aziraphale's waist, pulling him in close until the angel was curled against him, head tucked under his chin. 

They lay there in silence for a long time, Crowley's eyes fixated on the wall behind Aziraphale as the angel's breathing began to slow, indicating he was mere moments from sleep, but the demon couldn't resist brushing his lips against his hair, easing him back into awareness 

“Angel?” 

“Mmhm...?” 

“In Paris, you told me you loved me. Do you remember that? After that almost argument we had?"

“Mm...I do.” 

"When...When did you start loving me again?"

Aziraphale hummed, brushing soft lips against the column of his throat. 

“Oh, my star...As if I ever stopped.”

* * *

_Alright, I’m going to head off. I’ll meet you in St. James at noon, by the ice cream cart, got it?_

_Yes, darling, of course. Mind how you go._

_It’ll all work out, you’ll see. We’ve got this prophecy business in the bag._

_And if it doesn’t work out? If we don’t, as you say, have it ‘in the bag’?_

_No force in this universe is going to keep me from coming back to you, angel. Not again, I promise._

* * *

And for perhaps the first time in history, the universe didn’t throw Crowley’s words back into his face and force him to break another promise to Aziraphale. By some miracle, they both survived their attempted executions and were reunited with no further interference from either side. 

Once they swapped back from their body switch trick, Aziraphale refused to let go of his hand, choosing to lace their fingers together and hold tight even long after they arrived at the Ritz. Not that Crowley minded in the slightest, he was happy to hold on until the end of time. 

That’s all they had ahead of them now: time. 

“To the world, beloved.” 

_I love you._

“To the _world_ , darling.”

_I love you too._

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?  
> Leave me a comment :) 
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr!](https://mollymauk-teakwood.tumblr.com/)


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